


You, Forever

by inanoldhouseinparis



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Emotionally Constipated Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Geralt makes friends, M/M, he figures it out eventually
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-02
Updated: 2021-01-02
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:41:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28496970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inanoldhouseinparis/pseuds/inanoldhouseinparis
Summary: "Julian," his mother interrupted before Jaskier could reply, "if he wasn't trying to assassinate you, why would he be climbing in your bedroom window?"“Well, you see,” Jaskier was flustered.”Geralt is… Geralt and I, we, uh… That is to say…”"We're engaged," Geralt interrupted at the same time Jaskier stammered out. “We’re lovers.”“Engaged!” His mother sounded delighted. “Oh, Julian! Why didn’t you tell me?”Jaskier was giving a look somewhere in between incredulous and thinly veiled anger - a look that Geralt had never seen end well for the recipient - before he smoothed his face and looked at his mother. “You see, Mother, we had just gotten engaged right before I heard the news about Father. So we decided to wait the appropriate year of mourning before we announced it. We didn’t want to be disrespectful.”“You could have at least told me, though, Julian,” chided his mother. “You’ve been here for months.”“Yes, well, I uh, I was waiting until Geralt got here so we could tell you together. Mother, may I introduce you to my fiance, the White Wolf, Geralt of Rivia.”
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 37
Kudos: 371
Collections: The Witcher Secret Santa 2020





	You, Forever

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dhwty_writes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dhwty_writes/gifts).



“Geralt? I’m afraid I will have to go home for a while.”

“Is something wrong?”

“No,” Jaskier, sitting at the table in their small inn room, looked up from the letter he had received, hand-delivered by a courier who had apparently been trailing Jaskier since he left Oxenfurt a month ago. “It's just that my father has died. I need to go home for the mourning period, and to take over the estate.”

"How long will that take?" They had just gotten together after a long winter apart and it seemed unfair that Jaskier would have to leave again so soon.

"The mourning period is a full year in Lettenhove,” Jaskier answered as he began to throw his belongings into his pack. “Other places they shortened it to six months, but my mother is extremely traditional."

"I suppose I will see you next year, then." Geralt hid his disappointment. They had had periods of time when Geralt had walked the path without him before, but he always missed Jaskier when they were apart. 

"Don't look so dour,” Jaskier chided. “You're welcome to drop by anytime. In fact," he pulled off one of his rings and handed it to Geralt, "show this at the gate. I'll tell them to expect you." 

Jaskier rode home with the courier and Geralt continued on the path. It was lonely without Jaskier, but he had survived the loneliness before meeting Jaskier and he could put up with it again now. Several months later, autumn was waning and he decided to stop by Lettenhove to see Jaskier before he went to Kaer Morhen for the winter. 

The Lettenhove Estate was large, with a tall stone wall wrapped around it. Its similarity to Kaer Morhen only served to make it’s differences more stark. Where Kaer Morhen was empty and quiet, Lettenhove was full of life and noise. Inside the walls, Geralt could hear horses stamping in a stable, cooks chattering in a kitchen, and of course, a man standing guard at the gate. 

"Who goes there?" came the call from the gate as Geralt dismounted. 

"Geralt of Rivia,” he called in response. “The Viscount invited me. He gave me this ring to show you when I arrived." 

He pulled the ring out of a small bag and handed it to one of the guards, who snatched it out of his hand. 

"This is the insignia of the Viscount! He told us an esteemed guest would have it." The guard drew his sword. "Who did you steal this from?"

"It was given to me by the Viscount, as I said."

"I doubt his Lordship's esteemed guest would be a Witcher” sneered the guard. “Begone, brute! We have no need of you here."

"If you would ask 'His Lordship' he would tell you that I _am_ his expected guest," Geralt tried again to explain. 

"I won't be waking his Lordship for a lying mutant. Go!" The guard brandished his sword. 

Geralt saw there was no way to persuade him, so he took his leave. He regretted giving the guard Jaskier's ring because he hadn't gotten it back. 

He took Roach to be stabled, then almost went to buy a room for the night at an inn, but he decided he didn't want to. He went back to the Lettenhove estate, purposely avoided the gate, and climbed a tree to let himself over the wall. 

Once inside, he crept up to the building. Up on the third floor, he saw a light from a window next to a pear tree. He remembered Jaskier telling him about the pear blossoms drifting in his window during the spring. That must be Jaskier's room. 

"He isn't even asleep," Geralt grumbled to himself. The guard wouldn't have had to "wake the Viscount," it had just been an excuse to send Geralt away. 

Geralt climbed the tree as quietly as he could, but as he was passing the second story window, a guard looked out and saw him. 

"Intruder! Outside the Viscount's window!"

"Fuck."

Looking down, he saw guards running to surround the tree. He couldn't kill Jaskier's guards, and Jaskier would never forgive him if he died on Lettenhove estate, so he dropped to the ground and put his hands up, surrendering. The guards tied his hands behind his back at swordpoint and led him into the building. 

"That's the Witcher who tried to get in earlier!” The gate guard exclaimed as soon as there was enough light to see Geralt’s face. “He stole the Viscount's insignia from his Lordship's expected guest." 

They hauled Geralt into a room just off the foyer and forced him to his knees. Outside the room, Geralt heard a commotion coming down the stairs. 

"Your Lordship, we've captured the assassin,” announced the same thrice-cursed guard. “We believe he may have also attacked your expected guest."

"My guest?" That was Jaskier's voice! He sounded baffled. 

He walked through the door to see Geralt tied and kneeling on the floor. 

"Geralt?!?"

Behind Jaskier, an older woman burst through the door. "Julian, are you alright?" 

She looked an astonishing amount like Jaskier, though significantly older, and they were even dressed similarly in robes with mussed hair, though it looked like she had been sleeping and Jaskier looked fully awake. 

"I'm fine, Mother. I think this has all been a miscommunication." 

He turned to the guards. "Untie Geralt and let him stand. What is the reason for treating my guest in this manner?"

The guards untied Geralt and helped him to his feet as the guard who had stopped him at the gate stammered "your Lordship, we found him climbing the tree outside your window, armed with two swords. He must have snuck in over the wall."

"Geralt," Jaskier sounded baffled, "why did you sneak over the wall and try to climb the tree to my bedroom. I specifically gave you my ring."

The guard's face went white.

"Your guard didn't believe you gave me the ring. He thought I stole it from your 'esteemed guest,'" he said as he gestured with his head toward the gate guard. 

"Julian," his mother interrupted before Jaskier could reply, "if he wasn't trying to assassinate you, why would he be climbing in your bedroom window?"

“Well, you see,” Jaskier was flustered.”Geralt is… Geralt and I, we, uh… That is to say…”

"We're engaged," Geralt interrupted at the same time Jaskier stammered out. “We’re lovers.”

“Engaged!” His mother sounded delighted. “Oh, Julian! Why didn’t you tell me?”

Jaskier was giving a look somewhere in between incredulous and thinly veiled anger - a look that Geralt had never seen end well for the recipient - before he smoothed his face and looked at his mother. “You see, Mother, we had just gotten engaged right before I heard the news about Father. So we decided to wait the appropriate year of mourning before we announced it. We didn’t want to be disrespectful.” 

“You could have at least told me, though, Julian,” chided his mother. “You’ve been here for months.”

“Yes, well, I uh, I was waiting until Geralt got here so we could tell you together. Mother, may I introduce you to my fiance, the White Wolf, Geralt of Rivia.”

Geralt bowed politely as Jaskier started taking charge.

"James, please prepare a bath for my fiance. Geralt, where are your bags? Where is Roach?"

"I stabled her outside the Oak and Pine." 

"Right. Carlos, fetch Geralt's horse and stable her here, and bring his bags up to my room."

"Certainly not!" Jaskier's mother interrupted. "Julian, please, have a sense of propriety. You can't have your fiance stay in your bedroom with you! Carlos, put Sir Geralt's things in a guest room."

"The guest room closest to mine, if you please," Jaskier interjected.

Carlos looked at the Viscountess to see if she objected to that, but when she didn't, politely bowed and saw himself out. 

"Geralt, come join me in my drawing room until your bath is ready. Mariana will fetch you then and in the meantime, please find Geralt some sleep clothes?" He turned to his mother and kissed her on the cheek. "I'm sorry to have worried you, Mother. All is well. We can talk more in the morning. Geralt-" he held out his hand and Geralt, in awe of this authoritative Jaskier, took it without question. "Let's adjourn."

Jaskier led Geralt up two sets of stairs and down a long hallway, chattering the whole while, but not looking at Geralt and his voice sounded strained. Geralt was beginning to think that somehow every decision he had made since arriving at Lettenhove had been wrong.

Sure enough, as soon as the door to Geralt’s guest room was closed, Jaskier turned on him. 

_"Engaged?"_ Jaskier hissed, crowding Geralt against the door. "What were you thinking?" 

"You were taking too long and it seemed like that's where you were going. _You_ said lovers, so I wasn't that far off," Geralt defended himself.

"You were _very_ far off.” Jaskier’s arm was pressed across Geralt’s chest as he crowded into his space, angry, but unthreatening. “As a Viscount, there is a world of difference between taking a lover and getting engaged. A relationship with a lover could be anything, could be broken off at any time. Engaged implies _marriage,_ and marriage comes with titles and responsibilities. Are you prepared to become the Viscount of Lettenhove, Geralt?" 

"No?"

Jaskier pushed away from Geralt to gesture with his arms. "Then _why,_ by all the gods, would you claim we are engaged?"

"Why did you say we're lovers?" he countered.

"You were climbing into my bedroom window! Why would you do that?" Jaskier’s voice reached a pitch it only did on certain songs and when he was genuinely upset. 

"They wouldn't let me in or wake you up," Geralt protested.

"You could have stayed the night at an inn.” Jaskier gestured as he ranted, as he so often did when speaking. Watching him and his familiar actions made the lonely part inside of Geralt start to settle. “As soon as I heard a Witcher was in town, I would have come over right away. You couldn't wait one night at an inn?"

"I missed you."

At Geralt's simple proclamation, all Jaskier's anger evaporated into surprise. "Oh. Well. That's… quite charming, actually. I suppose I can forgive you, then." He sighed. "All right, then. We can come up with some way to handle this. We'll pretend to be engaged for the winter, then break up right before the year of mourning is over, so we don't have to publicly announce it. I'll pretend to be heartbroken, but I'll 'coincidentally' run into you on the road in our travels next year and we'll determine we can still be friends. Everything will be back to normal. Problem solved."

"Why can't we just break up now? Or admit we were never engaged to begin with. And if it made you so angry, why did you go along with it earlier?"

"And have my mother's first impression of you be that you're a liar who sneaks into people's windows?” Jaskier was indignant. “I want her to like you, Geralt. And we can't break up until you right before you leave, it would be terribly awkward to have my supposed ex-fiance staying here. So if we do break up now, you'd have to leave right after you got here. And as it turns out, I missed you, too." 

There was a polite knock at the door and a quiet voice called through, "Master Julian, the bath is ready."

He opened the door. "Show Geralt the way, scent the bath very lightly, he has strong senses, and make sure he is provided something to eat before he retires. Geralt, sleep in tomorrow. I mean it. I don't want to see you up until breakfast at the _earliest."_ He glanced at the waiting servant before saying to Geralt, "sleep well, my love. I really am very glad you’re here."

"Goodnight," a flustered Geralt replied before adding "dearest."

That night, Geralt lay in a very soft bed, washed, dressed in clothes that smelled like Jaskier, his stomach comfortably full of fresh fruit and cold cuts of meat, sent by an apologizing kitchen girl named Anna who explained they didn't have anything else ready due to his unexpected arrival. He heard, from two rooms over, the sound of a lute, softly played. It was an old song, written long before Jaskier was born, a wordless tune that Jaskier could play in his sleep. He had once told Geralt that he played this song to help himself think, to give his hands something to do while his mind spun. 

Geralt knew that he was the one on Jaskier's mind, that this situation he had created was an inconvenience for his friend. Though he regretted the trouble he was putting Jaskier through, it was worth it to see him, especially since he was now staying the whole winter. 

Jaskier was happy to see him, he contented himself with that thought. He would do whatever Jaskier asked to help with this situation. If all it took was calling his friend the occasional sweet nothing, that was no hardship, much easier than other solutions he's had to endure. 

With Jaskier's lute as a familiar lullaby, Geralt slipped gently into sleep. 

Geralt, as instructed by Jaskier, slept in. 

He always slept in the first morning after getting back to Kaer Morhen for winter, and though he was wintering in Lettenhove this year, he followed the same routine. Jaskier must have known he needed it, for how readily his body accepted the extra rest. 

There was something odd about waking up surrounded by the sights, smells, and even sounds of Jaskier, but the man himself being conspicuously absent. The room was filled with all Jaskier's preferences and favorite things, his preferred bedding, his favorite scents in the air. Even the maid outside his door was humming one of Jaskier's songs before she knocked on the door. 

"Master Geralt? My name is Allie. I've brought you breakfast. May I enter, sir?"

"Yes," Geralt answered as he sat up in bed. 

A young woman entered with a tray of food in her hands and a large package tucked under her arm. She set the food on a small table. 

"Master Julian has invited you to his office when you are done eating. He also instructed that I give you this." She held out the package.

"What is it?"

"Clothes for you, sir. Master Julian ordered them from the tailor not long after he arrived."

He accepted the package and opened it to find clothes, well made but not elaborate, made of study but comfortable material, all in black. There was no lace or brocade, but as he looked closely, he noticed tiny buttercups embroidered on places easily missed. 

"If you don't mind, sir, I'd like to offer my congratulations. I know your engagement hasn't been officially announced, but I've seen how happy you make Master Julian. He's been anticipating your arrival for months and I've never seen him so keen to dote on anyone. I'm quite pleased you're here, sir, he's been all but glowing all morning."

After he thanked her for her congratulations, she left, and he ate and dressed. He left his room and asked for directions to Jaskier and was directed to his office. 

He entered the office to see Jaskier standing over a desk. He was wearing an outfit that had all of the style of his usual clothes, but none of the color, instead being pure black. As soon as Geralt walked in, he turned around and his face lit up at seeing him. 

"Geralt! I'm so glad you took my advice and slept in. Are you wearing your new clothes? Let me look at you."

Jaskier looked him over with an approving eye. "I wasn't sure if your measurements had changed since I last had clothes made for you. I remembered them and wrote them in my journal, but that was a while ago, but it does fit you quite well, doesn't it." 

"It has buttercups," Geralt commented. 

"You noticed!” Jaskier was delighted. “I conceded that it could be black - and in this instance actually should be as the whole estate is in mourning - but allowed myself the indulgence of a little embroidery. And before you object that no one would hire a Witcher wearing flowers, I was very discreet. No one will know but you and me. And I suppose, Henri, my tailor."

"Hmmm."

"What are your plans for the day?"

"Check over Roach." He needed to make sure that Carlos had stabled her well and she had settled in. 

"I've contacted the farrier already, she is available whenever you would like, Jaskier offered. "Before you go, though, I wanted to talk to you a bit.” He grimaced. “It's about my mother. She interrogated me quite intently this morning during breakfast - which, aside from your obvious exhaustion was the reason I wanted you to sleep in a bit this morning. I've told her a bit about our supposed romance. You should know too, in case she asks."

Geralt sighed. "So, tell me about our romance. How long have you loved me?"

Jaskier gave him a strange look before he told him. "It was love at first sight. I was instantly smitten."

"That long?"

"What can I say?” Jaskier joked with a shrug. “I'm a romantic."

"Your deep and abiding love didn't stop you from sleeping with half the Continent," Geralt pointed out. 

"Well, what was I supposed to do? Express my love through self-imposed celibacy and pining?"

"No, by expressing your love at all. You loved me since we met and we only got engaged this spring?” Geralt scoffed and Jaskier rolled his eyes. “Why didn't you say something? Or else you did and I turned you down at first. I wouldn't have done that! Or have we been lovers this whole time and I only recently decided to make an honest man of you?"

"First of all, _I_ proposed to _you_. That's why you had my ring.” He reached into his pocket. “I got it back from Malyo, by the way, and firmly chastised him for how he treated my beloved." Jaskier handed Geralt the ring.

“That isn't something I discussed with Mother, but since none of those options sound that great, how about this: I made my case very early on, but not very clearly. You turned me down without understanding what I meant, and that was that for years. What I did tell her is that we got together last year’s Belletin. You gave quite a speech. You confessed that you had recently realized your tender feelings towards me, gave me a flower, then took me somewhere private and…. Ahem, showed your love in word and deed." 

Like everything else Jaskier did, the imagined romance he had created was full of unnecessary drama. "I approached you?" Geralt asked to clarify

"Yes, that seemed fair. You were the one who confessed your love initially, I later was the one who proposed. Besides, if you had already turned me down, I wouldn't have asked again. But if you were unaware you had already turned me down, what was to keep you from asking?"

"Hmmm." It made sense so far. "And your proposal? You must have made some sort of production of it."

"Oh, to be sure,” Jaskier nodded. “I swept you quite off your feet with it. You were gone on a hunt, not a very dangerous one, so I wasn't too worried. While you were gone, I covered our bed with flowers. I intercepted you at the Alderman's house as you collected your payment and took you on a picnic I had prepared. On a hill of wildflowers overlooking the sea, I proposed."

"You sang me love songs first." Geralt couldn’t imagine Jaskier proposing without making some sort of musical production. 

Jaskier laughed. "Oh, excellent. Of course I would. Good suggestion. Then we went back to our room and sweetly made love while covered in flowers."

"That doesn't sound very comfortable."

"Maybe not, but it was extremely romantic. I was in the process of writing a letter to tell my family the very next day, when the missive about my father arrived. I had to answer duty's call, you had to honor your commitment to the Path, but we made plans for you to winter here. I had hoped you would arrive sooner, but the Path kept you until now."

"I missed you so much that, out of my mind with love and longing, I attempted to break into your estate and climb in your very window." Geralt was still a little bitter at Malyo for refusing him entrance, but now it made the story a bit more dramatic, so he supposed it worked out. 

"Quite so. And now that you're here, we're loath to be parted, which should give us plenty of time to make sure we have our stories down." 

"And this is the better option than telling your poor mother the truth? To avoid admitting we told a lie, we now have to live it?"

"What would you have me do? Tell my mother 'this isn't my fiance or lover, he is a scoundrel who tried to climb in my window in an attempt to take my life or worse," he clutched his chest dramatically, "my virtue.'" 

Geralt rolled his eyes. "You haven't had virtue in that sense even before I met you. And even in what you've told your mother, I've taken any virtue you might have had left."

"Or did I take yours?" Jaskier wiggled his eyebrows. "But that isn't the point. The point is, if I told the truth now, you wouldn't be welcome at Lettenhove ever again. Or at least not until my mother dies. At least this way you can stay the winter. I don't think I could bear to be forced to send you away. Or if I even could send you away. If you were accused of attempted assassination, you could be imprisoned or executed."

"I get the impression that the main thing is that you don't want to admit to your mother that you lied, and your concern for my potential imprisonment is secondary,” Geralt commented wryly.

"They're connected,” Jaskier dismissed his concern. “As Dowager Viscountess, Mother still holds tremendous social power. If she didn't feel that you were an honorable man, or that you were not being honest and true to me, she could accuse you of attempted assassination, backed by the testimony of my guards, and the Duke could see you hung. The only option we have is to make her honestly believe that we are truly devoted to each other."

"What do I have to do?" 

"Fortunately, my mother is extremely conservative, as you may have noticed by the two separate bedrooms. Treat me kindly, call me sweet names. Physically you don't have to do anything different, so that shouldn't make you too uncomfortable. I, in turn, will dote on you, also calling you sweet names, and offer you every privilege my station can afford. It will be good. We can do this." 

Satisfied that they had a solid plan in place, they went their separate ways, Jaskier to his noble duties and Geralt to get Roach reshoed.

When he returned to his room that afternoon, Geralt found a set of formal clothes being laid out on his bed by the same maid from that morning, Allie. 

"I've been asked to help you dress for dinner, sir. 

That night, Geralt heard Jaskier tossing and turning in his bed, unable to settle enough to sleep. He huffed and flipped his pillow over, hoping the cool feeling would help him calm himself. When he gave the little huff that meant he was about to give up, to get out of bed and do a little writing, Geralt knocked quietly on his door. 

“Jaskier? Can I come in?”

“Yes,” he called back, and the door opened and closed quietly as Geralt crept into his room. 

“What’s wrong?”

“I heard that you couldn’t sleep either. So I wondered if…” It just made sense. Jaskier always slept better when Geralt was there, and Geralt slept better when Jaskier was there. “I wondered if it would help if I joined you. I know it sometimes settles you.”

“Thank you Geralt. That would be very kind.”

Geralt padded across the room and slipped under the covers Jaskier held up for him. Jaskier waited until he was laying down before he wrapped himself around Geralt. An arm around his waist and one of Jaskier’s legs pressed between Geralt’s calves. Jaskier dipped his head and pressed his forehead against Geralt’s chest. 

“You’ll have to be back before breakfast. My mother must never hear of this. She would have a conniption.”

“Of course. I can be very discreet.” Unlike Jaskier, Geralt had never gotten caught sneaking out of someone’s bedroom. It was mostly because he had never needed to, but the fact remained.

“It's a bit silly, don’t you think, that she’s so adamant about keeping us apart now?” Jaskier asked with a yawn. “We have practically lived together for years, including sharing beds. If we were really engaged, we would have consummated long before now.”

Geralt scoffed. “Maybe _you_ would have. Witchers have decorum.”

Jaskier looked up at him in surprise. “Are you being serious right now Geralt? If we were truly in love you would have turned me down? Because I can’t imagine having feelings for you and _not_ trying to jump your bones.”

“If you had tried to as you put it ‘jump my bones’ I would have gently refused you. I would have been the model of propriety and so we could enter our marriage untarnished.” Geralt tried to keep his face stern and serious. 

“Untarnished? I think it's a bit late on that for both of us! And I never thought that you were one to … oh, you’re joking.”

Geralt’s shoulders shook as he tried to hold in his laughter. Jaskier batted his shoulder. “Don’t be an ass. Some people would really hold it against me, or at least, against whoever they were marrying, regardless of their own past. I was horrified to think you would be one of them.”

“I think I'd know what I was getting into, getting married to you. I’ve saved you from enough cuckold spouses, angry parents, and sometimes angry children, to expect anything less from you.”

After a moment of reflective silence, Jaskier asked, “Geralt, if we really were lovers, what do you think would have been the moment you fell in love with me?”

There was a soft silence as Jaskier let Geralt think it over. “I would have always protected you, you know, even before we were friends. That’s why I told the Filavandrel to set you free. I started to like you as a friend when you tried to defend me back. By the time you wrote that song about me, I knew you would be a thorn in my side for a long time, so why not make the most of it.”

“Yes, yes,” Jaskier interrupted. “But that’s when we become _friends_. When would you have fallen for my many charms? The first time you heard me sing? Well, I suppose not, although that would have been rather romantic. Maybe it was more physical. The first time you saw me undress?”

Geralt hmmed and ran his fingers lightly through Jaskier’s hair. He thought back over his friendship with Jaskier, the amiable companionship they had built. He remembered long hot days walking together, and peaceful nights spent around a fire. Evenings full of music and laughter came to mind, followed by people’s opinions slowly changing, He remembered the first time, with teeth chattering and body shaking, Jaskier had asked to share a bedroll with him, and his surprise at how comfortably they fit together. Finally, he had an answer. 

“No, I think the moment I would have fallen in love with you would have been the first time you defended me from an unhappy innkeeper who was trying to throw me out. Do you remember? You had started playing at the inn and I had gone straight to hunt from the alderman’s office. When I got to the inn after the hunt, the innkeeper tried to throw me out. You said if I left, you would leave. You would spread the word to all your bard friends to avoid that inn, and you might even write a spiteful song about him.”

“I do remember that. I’ve calmed down a little since then. At your request, though, I would still threaten that at everyone who ever tried to hurt you.”

That was true. He had over time convinced Jaskier that not every battle needed fighting. And Jaskier begrudgingly agreed, though he did grumble every time someone was mean to Geralt, it was never loud enough that anyone other than a Witcher would be able to hear. 

“You had been having a good performance, and were making quite a bit of coin. The idea that you would leave all that to sleep another night in the woods with me, merely because of a prejudiced innkeeper…. I think I would have fallen in love with you then.” 

“That’s quite sweet, Geralt, and in a way quite sad. Of course I would rather be with you than give my coin to a man filled with hate. If that simple act of kindness is all that it would take….”

“I didn’t mean to upset you.” He hated when Jaskier was sad. The bitter smell of it made him ache.

“You didn’t. Not exactly. I just was curious.” Jaskier curled closer to Geralt, who wrapped his arm tighter. 

“What about you?” Geralt asked. “When would you have fallen in love with me?”

“I already told you. Officially, I fell in love at first sight.”

Geralt scoffed. “I don’t believe in love at first sight. Lust at first sight, I would believe, especially from you.” He jostled Jaskier playfully. “No, tell me for real. If you were really in love with me, when would it have happened?”

Unlike Geralt, who thought before he spoke, Jaskier talked his way through his thought process. 

“I don’t know. I don’t think it would have been one specific moment. I feel I would have fallen in love with you slowly, as I got to know you. As I saw your kindness, and your quick wit and your understated nobility. You never hesitate to put yourself between me and danger. You take less pay than you deserve on contracts to save the lives of people who can’t afford to pay. You are just… a very good man. It wouldn’t be hard to love you at all.”

Jaskier yawned and nestled closer, eyes shut contentedly. Geralt didn’t reply to his answer, but he did think it over carefully. He had seen Jaskier love freely, heart open to any. But he had never considered what it would be like to have that for himself before now. He considered all the joy and music and laughter that Jaskier had already brought to his life, and how - even before the farcical relationship had begun - He had provided clothes for Geralt, told the cooks about his favorite foods, and told his guards (unsuccessfully) to expect him. Jaskier, too, would be quite easy to love. 

Geralt pulled the blankets more snugly around them and soon they were asleep. 

When the sun was just starting to peek over the horizon, Geralt woke abruptly to the sound of someone walking down the hall. 

“Jaskier,” Geralt gently shook him awake, “what do you want me to do?”

“Mmm, huh?” 

“Someone is headed towards our rooms. Do you want me to leave?”

Jaskier still didn’t open his eyes, “No. Why would I?”

“I thought your mother may not approve.”

Jaskier sat straight up. “Gods! My mother! There’s no way she’d approve of this, especially since she specifically asked for you to have your own room.” He hopped out of bed and shrugged on a robe. “That must be James coming. He’s my manservant. He helps me dress.”

“Do you need help dressing?” Geralt would be surprised that Jaskier was taking the time to explain servant roles at a time when he was obviously panicked if he wasn’t deeply familiar with his habit of running his mouth when he got nervous. Asking a question should get him back on track. 

It worked, Jaskier’s eyes snapped to him. “We don’t have time for this. He’s my manservant, but he’s also loyal to my mother. There’s no question that if he found you here he would tell her if asked. You need to… Can you hear how close he is? Do you have time to get back to your own room before he sees you?”

“He’s too close.” 

“I need you to…” Jaskier glanced around wildly, to his wardrobe, the underside of the bed, and the curtains on the window before settling a door. “My study. Hide in my study so he doesn't know you slept here.”

“Master Julian,” James droned, “I went by your fiance's room to stoke his fire and found it empty.”

“That’s not surprising,” Jaskier drawled, sounding bored and tired but Geralt could hear his heart pounding. “He’s an early riser. He probably went on a walk or to dote on his beloved horse. As long as he isn’t late for breakfast I don’t much care.”

While Jaskier was helped into his clothes, Geralt looked around the study. There were piles of paper on a desk, a bookcase overflowing with books, and various musical instruments scattered around, including a lute case in the corner. It was as he would have expected for Jaskier. But as he looked closer at the instruments, he saw that they were beginning to develop a thin layer of dust, as if they had lain untouched for quite a while. He picked up the lute case and saw that there was a coat of dust on it as well, although it had been mostly brushed off, likely when Jaskier had played the other night. The thought of Jaskier going so long without playing his lute felt wrong, and induced an ache deep inside Geralt.

After Jaskier was dressed, James saw himself out. As soon as the bedroom door closed, Jaskier swung open the door to the study. “Gods, that was stressful. I swear he seemed to want to ask me, but thought it would be impolite. Sometimes there are advantages to my manservant being the stuffiest creature known to man. An _excellent_ manservant, mind you, but almost more devoted to propriety than to me.”

His rambling came to a stop when he saw Geralt looking at his lute case, with his lute locked safely inside. “Nevermind that, Geralt. It’s customary to put music aside in a time of mourning. Not long left, eh?” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Anyway, the coast is clear. You better hurry back to your room if you don’t want to be late for breakfast.”

After breakfast, Geralt does go to check on Roach. Even though Jaskier had assured him that he had an excellent stable and a knowledgeable stable master, he wouldn’t be content unless he checked in with Roach himself. And though he wouldn’t admit it (although he suspected Jaskier already knew), if he didn’t visit Roach he would miss her. 

Allie, who seemed to be assigned to him for anything he may need, escorted him to the stables, even though he had already been there the previous day. “Who is the stable master? I was told he had the day off yesterday when I took Roach to the farrier.”

“Her name is Theodora! So actually a stable mistress. She doesn’t mind being called stable master, though, as it is the traditional title, as long as you call her by the correct name. She learned from the best. Our old stable master had trained the king’s horses! And he taught her quite well.”

“Hmmm,” Geralt commented, and Allie took it as encouragement to continue. 

“Our mothers were friends and we grew up together. They were hoping we would get married, but I surprised them by being more into ladies. By the time we found out that she _was_ a lady, I had already fallen head over heels for my Anna.” 

They walked into the stables and were greeted by a tall woman brushing down a white stallion. 

“Theodora! Have you met Master Geralt? Master Julian’s fiance.”

“I’ve certainly met his mare. Hello, Master Geralt. Fine horse you have.” She reached out and gave his hand a firm shake. Geralt liked her immediately.

He moved to Roach’s stall, where he saw her happily fed, with plenty of straw, and brushed until she shone. He patted her gently on the nose and began to saddle her. As he did, he noticed his saddle and bridle had been well-treated too, washed and treated with a much finer oil than he was usually able to afford. He could tell that Theodora took pride in her work, as every crevice and stitch had been attended too. 

As Geralt just finished preparing Roach for a ride, Jaskier appeared in the stable, dressed in what seemed to be a riding outfit. 

“Theodora my dear, can you prepare Pegasus for me? I’d dearly love to ride with Geralt this morning.”

Theodora agreed and Geralt waited with Roach until the white stallion had been properly kitted, then he and Jaskier mounted up. “Follow me, Geralt, there’s somewhere I’d like to show you.” Jaskier threw a grin over his shoulder and began to ride away, not at a full gallop, but fast enough to tempt Geralt to chase him. 

Geralt caught Jaskier easily, and they rode at an easy pace until Jaskier led him into a small wooded dell. Jaskier dismounted and Geralt followed his lead, dismounting, then looking around. 

They were in a clearing in the dell and it seemed that someone had set up a small campsite. There was an unlit fire pit set up, the ground was cleared, and a fallen log dragged over to provide seating. It looked exactly like a campsite that Geralt would have set up while on the path. While Geralt was examining the campsite, Jaskier reached into a hollow in a tree and pulled out a large object, wrapped in waterproofed cloth. The object was revealed to be a lute case, with a lute inside. It was not Filivandrel’s lute, and it was not particularly fine, but that made sense that Jaskier wouldn’t leave his finest lute in the woods. 

“What is this place?” he asked Jaskier. 

To his surprise, Jaskier began to blush. “Well, you see, I’m not allowed to play music while I am in mourning; it isn’t considered respectful. So I come out here to play.”

“It looks like a campsite. One that we would sleep in one the Path.”

“Well, yes. I also come out here when I miss you.”

“Hmmm.” 

Jaskier looked at Geralt a little nervously, so he looked around the camp one more time, nodded, and took a seat on the log. “What are you going to play for me?”

Jaskier’s face lit up and he quickly checked the tuning of his lute. Satisfied, he took a seat beside Geralt and began to play. It was, Geralt had to admit to himself, rather like being on the Path. With Jaskier beside him, it felt like home. 

Geralt was walking in from his ride on Roach the next day when he came across Amella heading into the drawing-room. 

“Geralt! Just who I was looking for. Please join me for tea. Julian has had to take care of some business, so it will be just the two of us, I’m afraid. But that does give us time to talk.”

Geralt sat across from her at the small tea table, nothing like the spacious dining table where they took their meals, but almost just as heavy laden with tiny foods. They made polite conversation as she fixed them both cups of tea. 

Setting his cup on the saucer in front of him, she fixed him with a steely look. “Tell me Geralt, what are your intentions with my son?”

“Ma’am, I intend to marry him,” Geralt replied with surprise. 

“And after? Is this just an attempt out of the life of drudgery you have been living? Or do you intend to do right by him and by his people? It isn’t just him you are marrying into. It's also all the responsibilities of Lettenhove.”

Geralt considered for a moment and Amella seemed content to give him the time to choose his words carefully, but her eyes never left him for a moment. 

“Ma’am, I marry your son for love, but I accept the responsibilities that come with his hand. I came to him offering nothing but my heart and myself and he accepted just the same. How could I do any different? Especially when what he has to offer is the joy of being in community, something that I have lost and so often longed for.”

Amella leaned forward to search his face and deciding she was satisfied, sat back. “Very well. I believe you, Geralt. You have shown no sign of deceit in your treatment of my son, and your kindness, I believe, speaks for itself. Therefore, here is what I have decided. I doubt that your Witcher training has covered Estate management and politics, but in order to help my son run this estate, those are things you must know. Starting tomorrow, you will take tea with me daily, and I will instruct you in the things you must know. Is that acceptable for you?”

It would take away from the time he would be able to spend with Jaskier, but it would give him time to win Amella over, which was the whole objective of this charade. 

“Nothing would make me happier than to be the best husband I can for him.”

“Excellent." She smiled at him. "And in that vein, I need to comment on something else. My son, for all his strengths, often struggles with… shall we say, upholding the rigors of propriety. I would ask you, sir, to take that burden upon yourself. I don’t assume that he held himself to the same standards while he was traveling, but while under this roof, please withhold yourself from any… indelicate situations.”

Geralt inclined his head in assent. “In thanks for your generous hospitality, I take this task upon myself with utmost diligence.”

“Thank you, Geralt. I’m pleased that my son will be marrying such a noble man.”

A snake of guilt curled in his gut at being called noble while he was lying to her, but he pushed that feeling aside. "Believe me, ma'am, no one is more pleased than me."

After dinner that night, Geralt was surprised that Jaskier asked that a bath be drawn for him. “Geralt must want to refresh himself after his ride this afternoon.”

When Geralt got to the bathing room, he was even more surprised to find Jaskier already there, his doublet off and hung, and his shirt sleeves rolled up. He was sorting through various oils and scented bath salts, and if it weren’t for the finery around them, it would have been just like any other night on the road. 

“Geralt! I’ve had the bath drawn and I was trying to decide what to add to best soothe you. I was just deciding between chamomile and lavender. I ordered this new hair oil, it should make yours as soft as a babe’s. I also thought…. What’s wrong? Why aren’t you getting undressed?”

“I have given my word to your mother. I am to prevent us from entering into any…. Indelicate situations. I can’t think of many situations that would be more indelicate than this.” 

“So what am I supposed to do? Leave you here to bathe alone?” Jaskier asked, affronted. 

“I’ve managed to survive bathing myself for decades before you,” Geralt reminded him in an attempt to placate.

“Yes, I’ve seen what your idea of a bath is and I’m not impressed. No, Mother will just have to get used to this. I refuse - “ his rant was interrupted by a knock at the door. 

“Excuse me, sirs. Her Ladyship sent me to see if you needed any help with the bath.” It was Allie, carrying the softest looking towels Geralt had ever seen. “My Anna also told me to offer to plait your hair, if you might be wanting that.”

Geralt gave Jaskier a pointed look. “Fine! You can help Geralt and I will leave to keep the rules of propriety! Listen carefully.” He started listing on his fingers. “Only use the most lightly scented salts and oils, he has a sensitive nose. Don’t let him use the body soap on his hair, which he _will_ if you aren’t paying attention. And don’t let him stay in there too long. He can reheat the water himself and will sometimes take hours long baths, but I want to see him again tonight before I go to sleep.”

“Yes, sir. I’ll take good care of him.” 

“But not too good!” he said looking between them. 

Geralt rolled his eyes. “Goodbye, Jaskier. I’ll see you after my bath.” 

With a final huff, Jaskier left the bathing room, closing the door behind him. 

Allie looked almost delighted at Jaskier’s outrage. “He doesn't half love you. I’ve never seen him so in a huff as being asked to leave you. I think he could quite happily spend the rest of his life doting on you.”

“And I could spend the rest of mine letting him,” Geralt answered, surprised by how honest the answer felt. 

“I hope you don’t mind too much that it’s me this time instead of him,” Allie said brightly as she began to fix the bath according to Jaskier’s specifications. 

“Why _is_ it you?” Geralt asked as he began to undress. “I thought that this might also be seen as inappropriate.”

“Well, sir, seeing as you are a man who is engaged to a man, and I” she blushes “am a woman who is courting and being courted by a woman, her Ladyship thought it would be perfectly appropriate.” She did turn away as he stepped out of his underclothes and into the bath. 

“That must be the Anna you mentioned.” 

She settled behind him and began to wash his hair with the shampoo Jaskier had recommended. “Yes sir, she works in the kitchen. She cooks the deserts and pastries and always smells like sugar and spices. Not that you asked, sir.” She looked away, bashful. 

“No, but I’m glad to hear it. Tell me, what is it like working for Master Julian? What is he like when I’m not around.” He knew Jaskier to be a good man, never using his money, fame, or power to mistreat or abuse the vulnerable. But awareness, he knew from experience, might not always extend to servants. 

“It's a good job, sir. The Viscount is a kind master, he treats us all well and pays fairly. It's not much change from before you arrived sir, with the exception that he is noticeably cheered to have you here. But he was always cheerful, so they tell me. He left before I was quite old enough to remember him as anything but kind, but he did have quite a crush on Theodora’s older sister. He was fourteen and she was nineteen and so she was not a whit interested. But he never used the fact that he was technically her lord against her, like some would have. 

“He brought her flowers and even a silver bracelet. Her mother told her to give it back before his father found out, but he insisted. Said he bought it with his own money and it was none of his father’s business. Told her it brought him joy to see her wear beautiful things, even though he understood that she had turned him down. 

“Not long after that, he left for Oxenfurt, and she soon married. But she kept the bracelet. Said it reminded her of something, but she never told me what. It was her own business, though. 

“But that’s how I know he loves you, sir. He acts the same way about you. He wants you to have the best of everything and asks for nothing back. He started preparing for your arrival the day he got back. Ordered you clothes and bath salts and hair oil. Told the kitchen all your favorite foods, set aside books he thought you’d like from the library. He wants to see you happy.”

Geralt hmmed, and Allie fell silent. He didn’t tell her that it was just the way Jaskier was. Jaskier had always treated him that way, noting what his favorites were and going out of his way to acquire them for Geralt. 

After he bathed and dressed, she dried and braided his hair, then patted him on his shoulder and told him not to forget that the Viscount wanted to see him. Stopped by his own room to prepare for bed, then went to find Jaskier. He arrived at Jaskier’s room in his soft sleep clothes, loosely braided hair, very relaxed. 

Jaskier looked glad to see him and looked him over suspiciously as if Allie might have knifed him in the bath. Then he tugged him to his bed, nestling the blankets around Geralt, exactly as he knew Geralt liked it. Then he turned out the oil lamp beside the bed and lay down, curling against Geralt exactly the way they both liked best. 

Geralt could smell the soft chamomile from the bath, felt his hair, soft with the oil Jaskier had purchased for him. He was closer to the large window, which he had decided posed the greater risk than the door, so he could sleep easier protecting Jaskier. His sleep clothes were soft and cut in his preferred design. He felt the press Jaskier’s forehead against his chest and thought that if Jaskier was trying to give Geralt all he wanted, he had given him enough in just that moment. 

One night at dinner, Jaskier surprised Geralt by inviting him to come with him the next day. 

“There’s a dispute in the village that they need the Viscount to preside over. I thought you might enjoy meeting some of the people. And it would be good for them to meet their Viscount’s future husband.”

“Of course,” Geralt agreed immediately.

“Great! We’ll go tomorrow right after breakfast.”

After breakfast, they found Roach and Pegasus saddled and ready, and Theodora holding them both by the reins as she led them out of the stable. “Your horses, sirs.”

It was one of Geralt’s favorite parts of staying at Lettenhove, that he didn’t have to worry about Roach. He knew that Theodora would take excellent care of her. As he stroked her nose in greeting before mounting her, he saw that her coat absolutely gleamed. “Thank you, Theodora,” he said, not just meaning for this morning, and by her pleased smile, he saw that she had understood. 

As they rode, it was just like any other day on the Path, except that it was entirely different. Jaskier was riding beside him instead of walking, and though he chattered like usual, he didn’t even have a lute to strum. It was odd to be dressed in fine clothes instead of in armor, and his swords were strapped to Roach instead of on his back. But being on the road with Roach and JAskier had the same feeling of rightness it always had, the same sense of _belonging._

When they arrived at the village, a pair of stable hands came running to greet them. They skidded to a stop in front of the horses. “Can we take your horses, sirs?” the older one, the boy, asked. 

“Certainly,” Jaskier said easily as he dismounted. “And how have you been, Evan? And this must be Isabella. Old enough to join your brother in stables at last, eh?”

Geralt also dismounted and handed his reins to the girl, who shyly asked him, “Please, sir, what’s your horse’s name?”

“Roach,” he answered. 

“Like the fish!” Jaskier interjected. 

“Thank you, sirs,” Evan told them with a small bow. “Your horses will be waiting at the stables. Goodbye, mister witcher. Goodbye, Master Julian.” And with that, he ran off. 

Geralt was surprised that the children had known their names, but to his surprise, almost _everyone_ knew Jaskier both by sight and by name. Both his names. “Master Julian!” The baker called. “Come by and get a fresh, hot scone. We just made apple, by coincidence.” 

“An apple scone? It's as if you knew I was coming,” Jaskier joked as he purchased a pair of scones, paying handsomely despite the baker’s protests. 

“Well, I guessed you might. Everyone’s heard of the goings-on,” the baker confessed. 

“Indeed,” Jaskier said with a wry smile.

As they left the bakery, Jaskier was all but barrelled into by a young child. “Jaskier! Are you going to sing for us again?” 

“Unfortunately, I can’t perform until the year of mourning is over. I still have a few days left. But!” he ruffled their hair, “There’s no rule that I can’t listen. How are your flute skills coming along?” 

That’s when Geralt noticed that clenched in the child’s fist was a tiny flute. They put it to their lips and played. The flute was not well made and the child was not particularly skillful, but Jaskier listened like he was enraptured. 

“Remarkable. It’s been some time since we’ve heard such a flute performance, wouldn’t you say, Geralt?”

“It’s been so long I can’t think of the last,” Geralt answered truthfully. Jaskier gave him an amused look that said he knew what Geralt was doing, then turned his attention back to the tiny musician. 

“Now listen, you can’t tell anyone I showed you this…” Jaskier held his hand out for the flute, looked furtively around very dramatically, then played a little trill on the flute. “Did you see how I did that?” He asked. When the child shook their head, Jaskier sighed dramatically. “How foolish of me.” He knelt to be at eye level with the child and played again, making sure his hands could be clearly seen. 

He handed the flute back and stood, futilely dusting off the knees of his trousers. “Music is only half of being a bard, young Shinn. The other half is the drama. Play that at the beginning or end of your song to get people’s attention.” 

“Thank you, Jaskier!” The child ran off, flute still clutched in their dirty hand. 

Jaskier sighed. “When we get back, remind me to commission a decent flute for Shinn. That one sounds awful.”

They continued walking together, almost everyone in town giving Jaskier polite and friendly greetings until they arrived together at the village’s meeting hall. “Now, Geralt, unless you have an unexpected interest in petty land disputes and would like to help me look through records to find the border between two families’ gardens, I have a task to ask of you. The last house on the street is the widows’ house. Three widows moved in together after their husbands passed. If you don’t mind, I’d like you to go pay a visit. Drink their tea, listen to their stories, and look around carefully. Let me know if they want for anything.” 

When Geralt nodded, Jaskier rolled his shoulder’s back, straightened his doublet, and said “Now to see if I can clear this up. This village has very competitive flower growing contests. Garden space is of utmost importance.” Noticing a small crowd heading towards the meeting hall, eager to hear Jaskier’s ruling, he pressed a quick kiss to Geralt’s cheek and said “Meet me at the Stem and Stern for lunch. Laurence does an excellent meat pie.”

When Geralt finally managed to leave the chatty widows’ house, by the time he made it to the Stem and Stern, Jaskier was already there, chatting amiably with the bartender, presumably Laurence. 

“Geralt! Finally! Come meet Laurence. I’ve already ordered your meal, it should be out hot in a moment.”

Laurence greeted Geralt and poured them both meads, and stepped away to return soon after with their meals, the praised meat pies. Jaskier thanked him, and with a bow he stepped away. 

“Everyone knows you here,” Geralt commented. “And they all both like and respect you.”

“Don’t sound so surprised, Geralt!” Jaskier laughed even though Geralt hadn’t been surprised or joking. “I’m very likable you know.” He chuckled again, then sobered. “I put a lot of time and work into it, you know. I spent a lot of winters here while you were in Kaer Morhen. I didn’t always go to Oxenfurt or winter in a court. I always knew that one day I would have to come back here.” He gazed into the distance a little wistfully. 

“They’re good people and they’re my responsibility now. If there were some way to be both bard and Viscount, I’d do it in a heartbeat. But I have to do right by my people. They come first. So I do what I can and -” he cut off to laugh, a proper cackle. “I guess I support the next generation of bards. Look at me. A patron of the arts.”

“Are you really going to commission a flute?” Geralt knew, from Jaskier’s many lectures, that instruments were expensive. The child’s skill hardly merited the cost. 

“Of course. How would you expect a musician to improve with an instrument of that low quality? Besides…” he trailed off, looking unexpectedly sad. 

“Tell me,” he changed the subject, “How are the widows?”

Geralt told him about his morning, that he hadn’t noticed them lacking for anything, except that one of them was a veracious knitter who was running low on yarn. “She gave us matching pairs of socks. Said it was a wedding gift. I thought our engagement wasn’t announced, but everyone here seemed to know.” Also, you kissed me in front of the meeting hall, he thought, but kept to himself. 

“Yes. The people who work in the Estate live in this village, or at least their families do. It’s inevitable that word would have spread here.” He gave Geralt a surprisingly shy smile, “so I thought a little show of affection wouldn’t be out of place.”

As they rode back to the Estate house after lunch, Jaskier chattering about his friends in the village, Geralt was reminded of his early years as a witcher, before the attack on Kaer Morhen. He remembered being surrounded by people who knew him and - as much as witchers dared, knowing the survival rate of the Trials and the Path - loved him. He thought of the winters there now; the keep damaged beyond repair and haunted with memories, with his tiny family of the three other remaining wolves, still dwindling but hopefully not again any time soon. 

They made it back to the Estate house, bursting with life. Theodora greeted them at the stable. Soon he would get dressed for dinner, helped by Allie. He would eat a delicious meal, cooked in part by Anna, and sit with Jaskier and Amella in the drawing-room after dinner until it was night and he would sneak into Jaskier’s bed to lay warm and content beside him. This was everything he had lost and more. This was light and joy and friendship and community. Jaskier would be beside him, and where Jaskier went, there would inevitably be music. 

He found himself wishing that it wasn’t all fake. That after this winter ended, he would be allowed to come back, to return to this little haven of joy after another year on the path. The thought of leaving all this in a few days hurt him in a way he hadn’t expected or thought possible. 

“Julian, Darling, I have good news,” The Viscountess announced at breakfast, the day before the mourning period was due to end. “And it applies to you too, Geralt, dear. I’ve done you the favor of sending out your wedding invitations. Unfortunately, I didn’t know who you would like to invite, or how to get in touch with your family, but all the invitations on our side are done.

“I sent them this morning. I know, of course, that we weren't supposed to announce until tomorrow, but I’ve done a little trick.” She smiled, cunning and gleeful. “I’ve dated them for tomorrow. No one will know the difference once they receive them, but if I had waited, you would have tried to do them yourself and that would have ruined my surprise.”

Geralt looked at Jaskier. This ruined everything. They were supposed to break off the engagement before the invitations could be sent. 

Jaskier smiled at his mother, though Geralt could see the strain. “Thank you, Mother. That is most kind. Geralt and I are very grateful that you would undertake such an endeavor for us.”

“Nonsense,” she waved him off. “You know how much I enjoy correspondence. It was a pleasure to pass the time left in mourning to do something that would bring you both joy.”

“And it has, madam,” Geralt replied. “Nothing brings me greater joy than to be one step closer to marrying your son.” He reached over and held Jaskiers hand, resting it on the table between them. 

As soon as was polite, Jaskier led Geralt away from the table. He pulled him into the drawing-room and collapsed dramatically on the couch. 

“How could this have happened?” he moaned as he draped an arm over his face. 

Normally, Geralt would have called Jaskier dramatic, but in this case, he felt the same way. 

“Now all my peers will know. We can’t call it off now! It would humiliate my mother! We need…. We need a new plan.”

“What could we possibly do now?” The plan had been to end the alleged engagement before anyone outside of Lettenhove found out. Now, according to the list of guests, word had been sent to all corners of the Continent. 

“We need… We....” Jaskier groaned in frustration. “I need time to think.”

“When will the wedding be? How much time do we have to figure this out?” 

“It will be in three months. That will give everyone time to get here if they wish.”

“So we have a little bit of time to figure it out. I don’t know courtly rules, so I’ll go along with whatever you decide.”

“Let me rest here,” Jasker waved Geralt away with the arm that wasn’t covering his face. “I’ll meet you in the stables for our ride later, but right now, I need to think.”

When Jaskier joined him at the stables an hour later, he looked a lot better. 

“I have a plan,” he whispered. “I’ll tell you once we’ve ridden out.”

Geralt helped him onto his horse, and when he noticed people watching them, took Jaskier’s hand and pressed it to his lips. Theodora didn’t react when she saw but the stablegirl looked on a little wistfully. 

Once they had ridden a reasonable distance. They pulled to a stop and dismounted. Geralt walked Roach to a stream, while Pegasus seemed content to merely graze. 

“So?” Geralt asked, “what is the new plan?”

“Unfortunately, the new plan is the same as the old one. I just needed the morning to adjust and resign myself to the inevitable shame and disgrace. We break off the engagement. But now we need to stage a reason why. Before, we could have done it with relatively little fuss, but now, and I know you hate this, there will need to be a bit of a production.”

Geralt hated just the sound of it. “What do you mean, a production?”

“Well, we can’t just call off an engagement for no reason. That’s a serious faux pas. There has to be a reason, possibly a bit of a scandalous one. But not too scandalous. We can’t force my mother to deal with the social consequences of my foolishness.”

“What type of scandal is a good enough reason to call off an engagement, but not bad enough that it will shame your mother?” Geralt had an idea where this was probably going, but was hoping he was wrong. He had no such luck

“Erm…” Jaskier looked sheepish. “The easiest one is to say that you got caught cheating, but I would hate to ask that of you.”

“What other options are there?” Even if it was fake, the thought of everyone thinking he cheated on Jaskier turned his stomach. If it helped Jaskier, of course, he would do it without complaining. But he hoped that there was another way. 

“I could scour the laws and bylaws and see if there is anything against us marrying. Or you could say that upon the announcement of our engagement you received a letter from - I guess Vesemir would be the most logical person - saying that there is a rule against witchers marrying and forbidding you to be wed.”

“That would prevent any other witchers from marrying if news of this supposed rule spread. Let’s try the laws and bylaws first. I’ll send a letter to Vesemir just in case, asking if he knows of any rules prohibiting marriage. If both of those fail…” he took a deep breath, “we can pretend I cheated on you.”

“Thank you, Geralt. I know that you don’t have to put up with all this societal nonsense, so I appreciate you doing this for me.”

They called their horses back and rode for a bit longer. As they headed back to the stables at a slow walk Geralt started laughing. 

“What are you laughing about?” Jaskier asked, looking pleased.

“I’m just remembering the times when I’ve had to save you from all those cuckolded spouses and fiances. I just think it’s karma that now I might have to save you by making _you_ the cuckolded fiance.”

Jaskier laughed too, his head thrown back and his smile beautiful. “I supposed I have earned this fate. This is my just deserts.”

“It’s a bit hypocritical, don’t you think, to call off an engagement over infidelity? After being the cause of so much of it yourself?” Geralt teased.

“Well, who can hold it against me? I’m a changed man, ready to change my ways and settle down, and let you make an honest man of me.”

Geralt laughed, but it rang false this time. He wasn’t making Jaskier into an honest man; instead, he was forcing him to be even more dishonest and lie to his mother. He almost regretted ever coming to Lettenhove to have put Jaskier in such a position, but as he looked over at Jaskier, lax with laughter, beautiful in the sunlight as he rode beside him, Geralt found he couldn’t bring himself to regret it at all. 

Geralt, after lunch that day, joined Amella in the parlor. 

“I wanted to thank you again for sending the invitations. I was wondering if you could tell me the proper procedure for writing invitations? I’d like to send one to my family.”

“Oh, of course, Geralt. In fact, if you’d like me to, just give me the list of people you would like to invite and I will do that for you.”

“Thank you, my lady, but the only people I’d invite would be my family, and I need to write to them myself. Witcher marriages are uncommon to the point that this may be the first. I believe that if they receive an invitation in any hand but my own, they may take it for a joke.”

“Well, that makes sense. I’d hate for them to miss the wedding because they thought the invitation was insincere. I’ll show you the book with correspondence templates.”

Amella stood and walked into the library very briefly and returned with a well-used tome. She flipped it open for him and provided him with the highest quality paper Geralt had ever written on. 

He carefully followed the instructions on the page that told him to announce the upcoming marriage of Julian Alfred Pankratz, Viscount of Lettenhove to Geralt of Rivia, Witcher. 

In the envelope with the invitation, he added a note:

_Vesemir,_

_Are there any laws or rules that would prevent me from getting married? Please send your response to the Lettenhove Estate as soon as you know._

_-Geralt_

“Julian,” Amella called as Geralt and Jaskier walked to the stables for their daily ride. “I’ve received the first of the responses to the invitations. I hate to ask, but have you put any thought into your wedding?”

“Mother, I think of little else.” Jaskier took Geralt’s hand and smiled at him fondly. “The day of my union with Geralt occupies all my waking thoughts.”

“Well, later today, let me see some of your plans. I need to know what color and flowers you have chosen so I can commission a new dress.”

“Of course. We can bring you some of our notes after dinner.”

After lunch, they met in Jaskier’s office. He pulled a big book of flowers and wedding symbolism out of a bookcase. “I suppose we are forced to make wedding plans. Fortunately, much of this is standard, and we only have to make a few decisions. For example, we need to choose colors and flowers.”

“Flowers are easy. We should choose buttercups.” It made perfect sense to Geralt to choose the flower that Jaskier took his stage name from, but the suggestion seemed to offend him. 

“Are you serious? Do you mean to insult me? Buttercups symbolize childishness. Sometimes ingratitude or infidelity. This is what you want to start our marriage with?”

“Well then, what do you think? If buttercups are so terrible, what do you suggest?”

“Alstroemeria.” Jaskier flipped to the page. “They mean both friendship and love. And they come in a variety of colors.”

“Fine. We can have those,” Geralt relented. “What colors do you want? I would prefer blue.”

“Alstroemeria don’t come in blue. What about yellow? No, actually, not yellow. It will make you look washed out.”

Geralt doubted that he would look washed out, but he couldn’t remember a time he actually wore yellow, so he decided not to press the point. 

“I think green would suit you quite well, and we can have yellow as our highlight color. How does that sound, Geralt?”

“It works for me.” Especially since the wedding was never going to happen, he didn’t mind what colors Jaskier chose as long as he and Amella were happy. 

When they told Amella the decisions they had made, she surprised them again. “I’ve contacted Henri to let him know that you will both soon be making an appointment with him. He is extremely excited to sew the wedding outfits for both grooms in the viscount’s wedding. His father sewed the suit your father wore at our wedding you know. And it will be good to continue that tradition.”

“You must be Geralt! Come in, come in!” As soon as Geralt walked in the door to the tailor’s shop, he was enthusiastically greeted by the tailor who all but dragged him further into the shop. “What beautiful broad shoulders! And such unique coloring with your white hair. What a fun challenge it will be to design a wedding outfit for you! Now your fiance, Viscount Julian has already been in for his fitting and design. He left me specific instructions.” 

If Geralt hadn’t spent years with Jaskier, he would have been overwhelmed by the absolute volley of words coming out of this man. If anyone else had called his white hair a unique coloring he would have taken it as an insult, but this man had absolutely no malice behind his words. Geralt almost basked in the joy radiating off the excited tailor as he continued his monologue. 

“I was told to help you choose a style that would both compliment the cut he chose and also flatter your figure - which will be no challenge, let me tell you. It’d be harder to choose a style that would look bad on you. He also gave me instructions on which colors to show you. I heard that you favor darker colors, yes? Specifically black, I see. But I was expressly told that your outfit was by no means allowed to be exclusively black, although he did make provisions for one layer or another to be black, for example, he indicated you might want a black chemise or a black vest. But under no conditions are you allowed to have _both.”_

“I understand,” Geralt finally interrupted. 

“Ah, sorry. I do tend to ramble when I get excited. Now, Master Julian has left some specific instructions, but he did also leave quite a few choices to you. So let’s get to it.” He led Geralt to a table that had swatches of fabrics spread on it, with quite a few set forward prominently. 

“These are the colors and fabrics that Master Julian has chosen, and we are to pick for you something that either matches or compliments. He also had a few suggestions for the style, and asked me to draw a little example of what I want to embroider, but he also made clear you are allowed to choose your own embroidery design if you decide you don’t like any of the options he has chosen.”

In the end, they choose a black undershirt and a dark green vest, both in the finest fabric Geralt had even felt. He stood on a stand as the cheerful and chatty tailor measured him. When he was done, he commented to Geralt “I almost didn’t have to do that. They match almost exactly with the measurements the Viscount gave me when he commissioned your wardrobe. As soon as he commissioned that, I wondered if it might end in an engagement. You don’t commission a wardrobe with measurements you noted down yourself for a friend. He loves you greatly, and knows you well, as the styles I made would flatter you exceedingly. He told me your preferences, noted from years of knowing you.”

The tailor was only one in a long line of people who had told him that. Everyone around him was utterly convinced of Jaskier’s love for him. It was overwhelming. No one could tell him how he felt for Jaskier, why he felt this warmth every time he saw him. The happiest he ever felt was with Jaskier in his arms and- 

Oh. _Oh._

He loved Jaskier, too. He would do anything to make Jaskier happy and Jaskier felt the same way. How could he not have known? Did Jaskier know? Surely he did. Jaskier was extremely perceptive. It wouldn’t surprise Geralt at all to find that Jaskier had known of Geralt’s affections long before Geralt himself figured it out. 

He looked at the offered embroidery patterns and asked for a different one. “Could you make one that has lupine flowers mixed with buttercups? In gold thread around my wrists and neckline. And on the undershirt, where it will not be seen when I’m fully dressed, embroider a boutineer of buttercups - right over my heart.” 

No one would know except Allie, who would help him dress. Jaskier would likely never see his wedding clothes, never see this tiny declaration of love. It was possibly the only declaration of love he would ever be bold enough to make, and it was just as well that it would go unseen. But it was enough. He would keep it to himself, and keep these embroidered buttercups pressed against his heart. 

For the first time, he imagined going through with the wedding. Of Jaskier discovering the flowers as they undressed for bed on their wedding night. Geralt would explain how he wanted to keep Jaskier safe and he wanted to keep Jaskier close. He imagined telling Jaskier that he loved him. He imagined Jaskier loving him back. 

He was abruptly brought back to reality. Even though Jaskier loved him, he didn’t want to marry him. The wedding would be called off, maybe after Geralt told Jaskier that Witchers can’t marry. Or perhaps after staging an affair and Geralt would be forced to pretend to cheat on Jaskier. When he left, when the wedding was inevitably cancelled and he fled in disgrace to keep Jaskier out of trouble, he would leave this outfit. Maybe Jaskier would see the embroidery. Maybe he would understand. 

  
  


It was two weeks before the wedding when the letter from the other Wolf Witchers arrived. Jaskier was delivered the mail by a footman during breakfast. “Geralt, there’s a letter here for you.”

He handed it over and Geralt read:

_Geralt,_

_There is no rule or law that I know of that would prevent a Witcher from getting married. If there ever was, it has long since burned in the attack on Kaer Morhen We look forward to meeting your spouse._

_-Vesemir._

Geralt understood exactly what Vesemir was saying in his brief words. He had misunderstood that Geralt was looking for a reason to not get married and had assumed that Geralt was making sure nothing could keep him from getting married. He was telling Geralt that there was no such rule, if there was one found written it would be burned. He reminded Geralt that he knew Geralt had lost his home and family, and was giving him his blessing on finding a new one. Vesemir was assuring Geralt that none of the Wolves would do anything to keep Geralt from a marriage that they reasonably assumed would bring him happiness. 

“Who is it from?”

“My father. He gives his blessing on our marriage and sends his regrets that he will not be able to attend. He also,” Geralt looks at Jaskier who seems to have gone a little pale, “looks forward to meeting you.”

“Perhaps we will send an open invitation to him," the Viscountess proclaimed. "Any family of Geralt’s will always be welcome here.”

“Perhaps you should wait until you have met my brother Lambert before you make such a generous offer,” Geralt replied wryly. “But I do thank you for the invitation. I will write to him later today to convey your kindness to him.”

As they rose to leave the breakfast table, Amella stopped them. “Before you go, Geralt, this does raise a question. It's traditional for one of the parents to crown the bride or groom at their wedding. If your father can’t make it, someone would need to stand in for him? Is there anyone who you would like to stand by you at your wedding?”

“Allie.” It was out of his mouth before he even thought. “She has been a true friend to me these past months. If none of my family can be here, I can’t think of anyone I’d rather have stand beside me at my wedding.”

  
  


After breakfast, Jaskier pulled him aside. 

“That was our last out. I was hoping that there would be some reason to let the wedding be canceled. Now we have no option other than to fake cold feet. Whatever happens, we cannot get married.”

“What do you want me to do, Jaskier?”

“At some point between now and the wedding, you must leave. Maybe I will fake a contract for you, you can ride out and just… not come back.”

Geralt's gut twisted at the thought of leaving Jaskier, of riding off and abandoning him to the sneers of high society. But he had promised to do whatever Jaskier thought best in this situation, so he said, "just tell me when, Jaskier. I'll wait for your cue."

  
  


The days passed, and Jaskier hesitated and held off and never quite got around to telling Geralt of a fake contract to hunt. Eventually, it was the day before the wedding. During their afternoon tea, Amella said “Listen to me carefully, Geralt. The shame of a broken engagement is not something that can be easily brushed aside. Not for a Viscount. Whatever happens, Julian must not be shamed. His people would lose all respect for him. His peers would shun him. His superiors would belittle him. Whatever happens, you must be at that altar for him. 

“You are, unfortunately, in the eyes of our society… well, there’s no delicate way of saying this, but to them, you are disposable to a viscount. None of them would hold it against Julian if he decided to put you away. It’s practically a tradition in the nobility to take up and leave lovers like the seasons. 

“But to be so publicly discarded by one, by a witcher, no less, an outcast. Why, our reputation and social standing might never recover. Which, in turn, would mean that our people would suffer. If you care nothing for social niceties, you have shown that you at least care about the people in our care. 

“I know Julian has had… shall we say, a diverse history of past romances, and I’m not so naive to think that none of the breakups have been his fault. But we are well beyond that. If you need separate rooms, and to take separate lovers, that would be acceptable. Calling off a wedding at this late of a date is not.

“Now, would you like more tea, Geralt?”

Geralt took his tea and took the warning to heart. Jaskier would be the one to call off the wedding. Geralt must not appear anything but eager to be married, then later devastated to have been put aside. It did not occur to him to ask the Viscountess why she had felt the need to exhort him so strongly, but he believed her words and would do what was best for Jaskier and his people. 

The day of the wedding arrived. Allie came to his room to help him dress in his tailored wedding clothes and to braid his hair. This was it. The end of the charade. He would be forced to part ways with Jaskier, faking heartbreak until he made it off the estate. Then he would be free to be heartbroken for real. 

It wasn't Jaskier's fault. Every step of the way had been his fault. He was the one who claimed they were engaged, he was the one whose life was at risk if the truth came out, and he was the one who let his heart get carried away in this mirage, so he was the only one who would suffer. 

Allie saw him frowning in the mirror and misunderstood. "It's normal to be nervous. But I've seen how Master Jaskier acts around you and I know he loves you truly." She gave him a sympathetic smile. "Don't let fear keep you from happiness. This marriage will be a blessing to you both."

He thanked her and she patted his shoulder encouragingly. "You look like a proper groom." She stepped back and spread her arms. “And how do I look? Good enough to crown you?”

“Good enough that it would be an honor to be crowned by you.”

“You flatterer. Now go on. Theodora has your horse properly bedecked to take you to your wedding.”

They had decided to arrive at the temple separately, and wait in opposite rooms off of the great hall until the Priestess called them to begin the ceremony, at which point they would meet at the altar. “The better for one of us to make a run for it,” Jaskier had said with a wink. 

As he stepped out into the great hall, he saw that Jaskier was also there. Wasn’t Jaskier supposed to call it off before it got this far? Jaskier gave him a look he couldn’t interpret and they joined hands as they walked to the front of the room. Waiting for them at the altar were Amella and Allie, each holding a crown of alstroemeria, and the priestess, holding a long ribbon. 

They knelt in front of the priestess and she bound their hands together. As she did, she asked Jaskier to repeat after her. 

_I, Julian Alfred Pankratz, take you, Geralt of Rivia,_

_to be my husband,_

_and I promise you love, honor, and respect, to be faithful to you,_

_and not to forsake you until we are parted by death._

Why had Jaskier said the vows? Geralt glanced at Amella as the priestess began to lead him through his vows, but the look on her face made it clear that backing out now was not an option. He repeated his vows, even as the furrows on Jaskier’s face grew deeper. 

Well, now they had both taken the vows. They were handfasted. They were running out of time to call this off. Why was Jaskier still here? Why hadn’t he left before the ceremony? Why was he letting the priestess lead them both around the altar? They walked three times around the altar, hand in hand. There was only the crowning left until they were wed. They knelt and the two witnesses placed alstroemeria crowns on their heads. The time to call off the wedding was over. It was done. 

Geralt and Jaskier were married. 

As soon as they got back to the estate, Jaskier pulled Geralt into a private room and all but pinned him to the wall. "What was that?" Jaskier hissed. "You were supposed to leave me at the altar."

"You were supposed to leave me. Come to your senses at the last minute and realize that you didn't want to be married to a Witcher. Not be the man that even a Witcher wouldn't marry." Even though he had never expected to actually marry Jaskier, he found he couldn’t be upset. Jaskier was his husband! Even though it would and in heartbreak, right now he couldn’t help but be overjoyed. 

"Better the man left by a Witcher than a man who breaks both his word and his engagement!" Jaskier ran his hands through his hair. "What are we going to do now? We're officially, properly married!"

"I could fake my death?" Geralt offered. 

"Don't joke at a time like this! We are about to go on our honeymoon. Like an actual honeymoon, with each other as husbands."

"Where are we going?" Jaskier hadn’t told him because he assumed that they wouldn’t be going on it. 

"A hunting cabin. I was going to still go to get over my grief at having been left, and then meet up with you there and we could go on the path after."

"We could still do that. I would just go to the cabin with you." Even though it wouldn’t be a proper honeymoon, he would enjoy spending time alone with Jaskier in a hunting cabin. 

"I don't think you're taking this seriously enough, Geralt. The one consolation is that we don't have to do a consummation ceremony. I _would_ ask you to fake your death if we were expected to do that."

"What's the problem? You've always been a bit of an exhibitionist." Geralt knew he was pushing and Jaskier would be angry, but he was having fun. 

"That's very different! For one thing, if they made us consummate, my _mother_ would be there."

"Well, then let's just be glad we're not required to consummate," Geralt said, but Jaskier didn't miss his glance at Jaskier's crotch. 

"Did you just -" Jaskier hissed and sputtered. 

"I'm your husband," Geralt said calmly. "I'm allowed."

"Well then, I'm also allowed!"

Jaskier grabbed Geralt's doublet and started undoing the buttons. Just then, there was a knock on the door. 

"Julian? It's time for your wedding supper. We're all waiting for, oh!"

The door opened and Julian's mother walked in. She took in Jaskier's mussed hair and his hands on Geralt's unbuttoned doublet and both of their red faces with Jaskier pressing Geralt up against the wall. 

"Really, Julian? You couldn't wait until after your dinner? You've certainly got your hands full with this one, Geralt."

"I wouldn't have it any other way," Geralt replied as he rebuttoned his open doublet. He held his hand out for Jaskier. “Let’s go to dinner, husband mine.” He gently pressed Jaskier’s hand to his lips, then escorted him out of the room. Jaskier let himself be led with a sour look on his face. “Don’t look so upset,” Geralt whispered, loud enough for Amella to hear, “we can continue as soon as dinner is over.” Jaskier shot him one last dirty look before he schooled his face. “Of course, my darling. I’m not known for my patience, but seeing you in your wedding clothes, who could blame me?”

Walking beside them, Amella smirked. 

The Wedding dinner was a celebration to remember. Geralt had never enjoyed banquets. Too much having to talk to backstabbing nobles who talked out of both sides of their mouths. But sitting next to Jaskier at the head table, the only conversation he was forced to have was an almost constant stream of people stopping by to congratulate him and Jaskier. And to his surprise, most of them were genuine. Very few of them smelled afraid of him as he sat holding Jaskier’s hand with their wedding crowns on. No one sneered at him when they addressed him as the Viscount-Consort. 

Not to mention, he secretly enjoyed how close Jaskier got when he whispered to him the names, titles, and proper address of each person as they approached. He could have reminded Jaskier that because of his hearing he would have heard Jaskier just as clearly from across the table as he did right next to his ear, but he kept that to himself. No one would ever know that he was quietly desperate for Jaskier’s closeness and touch, and if he indulged himself a little, perhaps it could be excused. It was his wedding day after all. 

The feast was finally over and they made their way to their honeymoon suite in the far wing of the estate. The large bed was covered in flower petals, with a warm fire burning in the fireplace. Sitting on the table was a set of wine goblets and wine, along with a platter of meats, cheeses, fruit and bread. It didn’t escape Geralt’s notice that there were various bottles of oil and slicks on the nightstand next to the lamp. 

“Well, my husband,” Jaskier exclaimed, “here we are. The honeymoon suite. Our wait is over and you are now free to ravish me.”

Jaskier’s dramatic words didn’t cover up the quaver of fear and frustration in his voice. Geralt took his hand.

“It will be okay, Jask. _We_ will be okay. We’ll figure this out.”

“Geralt, how did this happen? We were never supposed to actually get married. This makes everything so much more complicated and dangerous. What are we going to do now?”

"We'll talk it out. We can figure it out. Take a deep breath, Jaskier. We can talk it out tomorrow when we're at the hunting cabin." On our honeymoon, he didn't say. 

"I suppose so," Jaskier said and without the adrenaline of anxiety, he suddenly looked exhausted.

“You barely ate anything at our wedding dinner,” Geralt said and pretended not to notice or feel hurt when Jaskier flinched at the phrase, “so let’s eat a little and then go to bed.”

Jaskier ate a roll and some cheese, then stood from the platter. “Today has been too long. I’m going to bed.”

He undressed, and Geralt undressed as well, though he turned his back so that Jaskier couldn’t see the embroidery. The thought of Jaskier seeing it, of understanding and still turning Geralt down made him a coward. Jaskier had already rejected the idea of marrying him. Why press the point. 

When he was stripped down, he climbed into bed next to Jaskier, who immediately curled up against him. They didn’t say anything and eventually, Jaskier’s heartbeat slowed down until he was almost asleep. Right before Jaskier fell asleep, he whispered into Geralt’s chest, “everything would be so much better and simpler if we could just stay married.”

They left the next morning in a carriage, their trunks strapped to the back and Roach and another horse pulling it. Geralt had grumbled about Roach being forced to pull a carriage, but when asked if he would rather leave her behind had relented. It was a silent and miserable trip. The stench of misery coming off Jaskier was suffocating. 

Geralt took his hand to comfort him. “Whatever happens, Jask, you’ll still be my best friend. If you ask me to fake my death or pretend to cheat on you, I won’t hold it against you. If you ask me to stay married to you, I can do that, too. I’ll do whatever you ask.”

 _I would do anything for you,_ he thinks but doesn’t say. 

When they are safely at the hunting cabin and the carriage is unloaded into their bedrooms and the kitchen is stocked for a week with the food Jaskier had requested in his wedding planning, the coachman leaves them alone, with Roach stabled in the back. 

“This is a hunting cabin?” Geralt asked, incredulous. 

It was nothing like the tiny shack he had envisioned. Instead, it was multiple rooms, furnished almost luxuriously. 

Jaskier shrugged. “I’m a Viscount. Nobility never like to be inconvenienced, even when hunting.”

Geralt looked suspiciously at the portrait of Jaskier’s great-grandfather but didn’t reply. He looked through the storage room that held all the hunting supplies, inspecting them for sharpness and usability. 

“Do you want to go hunting?” he asked when he emerged from the storage room.

“No, but I thought that you might, especially after a winter spent cooped up in my estate. Why don’t you bring us something for supper?”

When Geralt got back from the hunt with two quail, Jaskier was quietly chopping vegetables in the small kitchen. He seemed more settled; less anxious but oddly sad. He thanked Geralt for the quail but didn’t say any more until they sat down to eat. 

“I need to apologize to you,” he finally said, mid-way through the meal. “I’ve been unbelievably selfish and entitled. I asked you to do all these ridiculous schemes these past months and you’ve accommodated without question, but I’ve never once asked you what you want out of this situation. So I’ll ask you now. Geralt, my dearest friend, and somehow also my husband, what do you want from this whole disaster of a situation? Don’t consider politics or societal expectations. If it were up to you, what would we do from here? Annul the marriage with no explanation? Pretend it never happened and you continue on the Path undisturbed? What, with no holds barred, would be your ideal end to this dilemma?”

“If it were up to me,” Geralt replied slowly, “we would stay married. I don’t want to pretend to have been untrue to you, or that I didn’t want to marry you. You would join me back on the Path if you are able, and if not, I would walk the Path from here, always coming back to you. I would have tea and talk policies with the Dowager Viscountess, help your people during the day, and at night lay my head next to yours. If you can get away, I can invite you to Kaer Morhen occasionally for the winter, and if not, possibly invite my father and brothers here. 

“I would wake beside you, take my meals beside you, live my life beside you. But I will never ask for this. You asked my ideal end to this? My ideal end, my deepest desire, is for you to love me back. For you to want to stay married and to make this a real marriage between us. 

“What I want doesn’t matter. It is impossible, no matter how many unwritten societal rules we keep or break. The only thing I can do is whatever it takes to make you happy. Even if it means I have to lie about being unfaithful, if you ask it of me, I will do it.”

Jaskier’s mouth had fallen open as Geralt spoke, and tears started to stream down his face. He hadn’t meant to make Jaskier cry! He turned away, ashamed, but Jaskier reached up and grabbed his face. 

“If you want to stay married to me, if you love me and want this to be a true marriage between us, then it doesn’t matter what society says, what my mother says, or what consequences I may have to bear. I love you. I never dreamed you would want to marry me, or I would have asked. I would have done it right and courted you and proposed.” 

He made a horrible sniffling noise that if anyone else had made it would have annoyed Geralt, but from Jaskier, he found he didn’t mind. Jaskier took a deep breath and continued. “Your deepest desire is for me to love you? How can you not see? I love you with everything that I am. I love you selflessly and selfishly. I love you with my music and my voice and my every waking breath. 

“I didn’t want to trap you here. I thought you would need to leave, to walk the Path, even though I now have responsibilities I can’t entirely abandon. And I thought it would be too painful, to have you leave, to call off our marriage even though I wanted it so badly. If I had suspected for one minute that you loved me back I wouldn’t have been such a coward. I would have professed my love, honestly, not as part of a ruse.”

“I should have said. I should have told you, Jaskier. I love you and I want to stay married to you. And if it's alright, I want to kiss you.” 

As soon as Geralt finished talking, Jaskier pulled him forward and kissed him. Geralt kissed back, softly, gently, and with all the love he hadn’t been able to say until now. 

“I’m never going to let you go,” Jaskier panted as soon as they broke the kiss. “Never. I’m going to keep you with me always, where I can know that you’re safe and I can give you all the good things you deserve. That was your last chance, Witcher. You’re stuck with me forever now.”

Geralt laughed. “That’s all I want. You don’t have to give me anything. All I want is you, forever.”


End file.
